Those Who Can
by northstar61
Summary: Life's path is often rife with unexpected detours – even for people as ambitious and talented as Rachel Berry and Jesse St. James. Written in response to bandtogetherandfight's Change the World challenge.


**A/N:** Yes, this was _supposed_ to be ready in time to meet the Change the World challenge. Unfortunately, my muse had other ideas, and insisted I write _Regrets_ instead. So here it is, a day (or three) late, and a dollar (.50!) short. My first future fic. Hope you enjoy.

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><p><strong>Those Who Can<strong>

The building was quiet. Unnaturally so. Standing in the middle of the modestly furnished room, alone in the gathering darkness, Rachel twirled slowly, scanning the familiar space as if hoping to commit every last detail of it to memory.

She hadn't expected to get so attached. The decision to leave had been hers – as had been the original impetus to follow the path that had led here, during a particularly unsettled time in her life. She was content with her choices, both then and now. But it was proving harder to let go than she'd ever imagined it would. As she continued her final survey of the space she'd occupied, day in and day out, for the better part of five years, the glint of something shiny caught her eye. Picking her way carefully over to the small desk that was tucked into the far corner of the room, she reached for the object that still held pride of place on the otherwise bare surface. The tiny, star-shaped trophy bore an inscription that never failed to bring a lump to her throat. Today would be no exception.

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><p>Snagging her first New York stage role had been surprisingly easy. Although it was just a small, supporting part, she'd thrown herself into it body and soul, knowing that it was the initial step towards living out the dreams that had propelled her out of Ohio in the first place. Jesse had found similar success, landing a string of minor off-Broadway roles that had ultimately led to him being cast as Marius in a revival of <em>Les <em>_Misérables_. On the day he'd received the news, he'd treated her to dinner at her favourite vegan restaurant, then whisked her off to the Top of the Rock's observation deck. There, with the twinkling city lights providing a breathtaking background, he'd promptly dropped to one knee and proposed. Years later, he still insisted – only half-jokingly – that her squeal of delight as she accepted his ring was one of her greatest vocal performances ever.

They'd settled into a cozy apartment in Greenwich Village, and within a few months, they'd immersed themselves fully in their community – becoming regulars at various shops and cafés, exchanging smiles and greetings with familiar faces as they walked and biked through the neighbourhood, and enthusiastically taking part in local events. They'd played host to their respective parents and to various friends, all of whom had made a point of noting that they'd never seen either of them happier.

She'd been the one to talk him into trying to have a baby. When he'd teasingly reminded her that she'd planned on winning a Tony first, she'd admitted that she felt secure enough in her career to step out of the limelight for a while. He'd initially been hesitant, but seeing how much it meant to her, he'd gone along with the idea. When the home pregnancy test had come back positive, he'd begun singing and talking to her belly, his excitement easily matching hers. From the moment the doctor had confirmed the news, they'd appeared well on their way to having everything they could possibly want.

The morning that she'd doubled over in pain, clutching desperately at both him and her abdomen as he'd lifted her into his arms and sprinted into the street to hail the nearest cab, had been the most terrifying of his life. The loss of their unborn child had devastated them both, leaving her in the throes of depression, while he'd flung himself into his work with a vengeance. For a time, they'd become distant, the depth of their grief creating a gap between them that they'd been powerless to bridge. On the night that they'd ended up hurling accusations at each other, a full-scale explosion set off by the most innocuous of comments, he'd been about to storm out when her sudden, wrenching sobs had stopped him in his tracks.

Slowly but surely, they'd worked their way back to a good place, but for Rachel, something had been missing. In spite of her renewed success on Broadway, she'd seemed restless, and she'd eventually confessed – somewhat sheepishly – to feeling unfulfilled.

Mere days after her admission, as she'd leafed idly through the Arts section of the _New __York __Times_, her gaze had been inexplicably drawn to an article buried on the back page. She'd read it through with mounting excitement and, late that night when he'd walked into their apartment after his show, he'd found her bursting with eagerness to share the idea that had managed to banish the dark cloud she'd been living under since the miscarriage. He'd listened attentively, outwardly calm, but inwardly torn between joy at her renewed happiness, and disbelief at the fact that she'd just basically suggested they give up everything they'd worked so long and hard to achieve.

Family and friends had not exercised a similar restraint. They'd persisted in expressing their doubts, and in questioning her decision at every turn. None of them had understood the pull she'd felt towards this; the need to do something other than what she'd spent her entire life preparing for. They didn't recognize a Rachel Berry who aspired to something beyond fame, stardom and applause. They'd doubted him, too – doubted that he'd stay with her when she abandoned what had been, for all intents and purposes, their shared dream, and essentially asked him to do the same.

To be honest, he _had_ tried to talk her out of it – repeatedly. Their debates had ranged over days and weeks, but ultimately, he'd loved her enough to come around to not only seeing, but also sharing, her point of view. Since then, he'd been the epitome of support.

As soon as they'd finalized their plans, he'd taken his director aside and explained that he'd be leaving the production by the end of the month. Although disappointed to be losing the cast member who'd become one of the show's biggest audience draws, the older man had expressed his admiration for Jesse's decision, had wished him well in his new venture, and had urged him to keep in touch. Conversely, the news had thrilled his understudy, whose only previous opportunity to set foot on the stage had come in the days immediately following the miscarriage, as Jesse and Rachel dealt with their loss.

Confident that they'd return to the city at some point, they'd refused to sell their apartment, subletting it instead to a friend whose lease had just expired. Finally, after several weeks spent packing, they'd loaded all that they owned into a U-Haul van and bid their friends goodbye, trading the hustle and bustle of Manhattan for the less obvious charms of smaller town living.

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><p>The independent arts school that catered to talented youth from disadvantaged families had been the brainchild of a consortium of generous benefactors. They'd purchased a formerly luxurious mansion that had fallen into a state of disrepair and painstakingly renovated it to suit their purposes. A practical group, they'd by and large equipped the classrooms with gently used and donated materials, preferring to spend the bulk of their money on financial aid for deserving students.<p>

Recruiting exceptional staff had remained a top priority, and they'd advertised far and wide in the hopes of securing the best possible teachers. Nevertheless, they'd been unprepared and completely blown away by the fact that two legitimate Broadway stars had appeared at the interviews and offered to become part of the faculty. The principal had jumped at the chance to hire professionals of Jesse and Rachel's calibre, and the pair had soon found themselves enmeshed in planning meetings, where their opinions on every aspect of course development and content had been sought out and implemented.

Given their acknowledged status as genuine triple threats, they'd each followed their own passion, with Rachel having focused on vocal performance, while Jesse had masterminded an ambitious dance program. Frequently, they'd combined forces, selecting particularly gifted students and immersing them in the full spectrum of activities related to show choir and musical theatre. By the end of the first year, they'd become the most beloved and respected among the school's instructors, with teens clamouring for admission to their specialized class offerings.

The ease with which she'd adapted to her new profession had stunned everyone – except him. He'd always known that she'd be spectacular at whatever she attempted, and this had proven to be no different. What _was_ unexpected was how quickly he'd adjusted to their altered lifestyle. Unlike her, he'd had a taste of similar work as a consultant, but _that_ had been worlds away from this new venture. In spite of their paying him for his advice, his clients had often rejected his suggestions as being impractical, or too challenging, or just plain unwelcome. His new students had been so grateful to be getting expert training that, from the very beginning, they'd hung on his every word and action. He'd readily admitted to her that it stroked his ego in a way he'd anticipated having to forego during their time away from the bright lights of Broadway. She'd failed to suppress an exultant smile at his confession, and their lovemaking that night had been particularly intense. Their bodies entwined in the afterglow, they'd agreed that the decision to pursue this opportunity had been the right one for them both.

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><p>They'd marvelled at the incredible feeling of accomplishment as their first group of students had marched and twirled and skipped their way across the stage to accept their diplomas, along with the specialized arts certificates that had paved the way for offers of admission from well-respected colleges and universities – in most cases, with scholarship money attached. They'd accepted an invitation to celebrate at the graduation after-party, and they'd joyously danced the night away, their energy and moves putting most of the teens in attendance to shame.<p>

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><p>That had been eight months ago. Now, they were about to uproot themselves yet again, set to resume their life in the big city, along with the renewed pursuit of their many dreams.<p>

Over the holidays, while visiting with friends, Jesse had received a call from his former director, who'd asked if they could meet. When he'd made his way back to their hotel several hours later, two things had been obvious – he appeared to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he was completely drunk. She hadn't even bothered to attempt any form of conversation with him that night, but had simply tucked him into bed so that he could sleep it off. The following day, he'd revealed that he'd been offered the lead – an original character – in a brand new musical, but that he'd turned it down, unwilling to disrupt the life they'd built. She'd promptly chewed him out for not discussing it with her first, urging him to call the director back to retract his refusal. He'd been adamant he didn't want the role if it meant them living apart, and that he didn't expect her to drop everything to follow him. She'd been equally insistent that he shouldn't pass up such a terrific opportunity, and she'd reminded him rather forcefully that the only place she'd be happy was by his side. It had taken no more than a few minutes after that for him to close the deal. They were going home.

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><p>She sensed him behind her moments before feeling his arms wrap around her waist, his strong hands coming to rest gently on the visible swell of her abdomen. She smiled as he pressed a tender kiss to her neck, and she leaned back into the comfort of his firm chest.<p>

"You okay?" he murmured into her ear.

She nodded in response.

"I'm sad to be leaving, but I'm excited at the same time. We have so much to look forward to."

"I know."

He stroked her belly, grinning when his touch was met by a flutter of movement underneath her skin.

"Less than a month until she's due," he marvelled, still awestruck at the notion that he and the woman he loved beyond all reason would soon be bringing a new little person – a daughter – into the world.

"Just enough time to get the nursery set up. Should we let Kurt go crazy?"

"Oh, God, no! I've seen what can happen when he's set loose without limits," Jesse groaned in mock horror.

"We'll do it together, then."

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed.

As he continued to hold his wife in a warm embrace, his gaze fell on the trophy that she'd picked up to admire once more. Easing it from her grasp, he held it higher, allowing the beam of light from the desk lamp to play upon its inscription.

_To Mr. and Mrs. St. James, with love and gratitude. Those who can, teach. You have changed our world._

"We've set plenty of dreams in motion here, Rach." He laced his fingers with hers and led her to the door, pausing for one last look around before brushing a light kiss on her cheek. "Let's go home and start a few of our own."


End file.
